


Like Bad Wallpaper: Sherlock PoV Outtake

by flawedamythyst



Series: Like Bad Wallpaper [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's PoV on part of the wedding from Like Bad Wallpaper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Bad Wallpaper: Sherlock PoV Outtake

It seemed that weddings were just as dull as Sherlock had always assumed they would be. He was extremely close to causing a bit of excitement by revealing one of the many sordid secrets he had observed in the hours – hours! - he had been trapped in this room, and only two things were stopping him. 

The first was that Harry looked as if she was having a good time and Sherlock felt that wouldn't continue if he upset her aunt, or the tallest bridesmaid, or Jessica's old school friend and her boyfriend, or any of the others. Harry had accepted him as John's rather odd friend despite their problematic first interaction, and had taken to teasing him rather than telling John that he should run for the hills like so many others had. The least Sherlock could do was not ruin her wedding day in return.

The second reason was that if he caused a scene, John would be furious and probably take him home. At which point, he would change out of his uniform and Sherlock wasn't ready for that yet. Seeing John in that uniform was the only good thing about this whole tedious day, and the longer Sherlock could keep him in it, the better. Well, no, even better would be getting John out of it and naked into bed, but Sherlock was not such an idiot as to think he had any chance of that happening. He would have to settle for watching the way John's back had instinctively straightened, the way the belt hugged his waist, and how the lines of the jacket accentuated his shoulders.

Sherlock had gone to the loo in the hopes that there'd be a corpse in one of the cubicles like there had been at the wedding of Ben Harrison and Jasmine O'Donnell in 1993. He'd been disappointed. When he got back to the reception, John was at a table with his aunt, and was clearly unhappy at whatever she was saying. That wasn't allowed; time to intervene.

He arrived behind John just in time to hear him say, “And I'd count myself lucky to be with Sherlock, he's a lot more exciting than most women.”

Sherlock was momentarily taken aback. That was the precise opposite of what John usually said, which was that he needed something a bit normal in his lovelife to balance out the insanity that Sherlock dragged into the rest of his life. For a moment, hope surged in Sherlock's chest, but he stifled it quickly. He'd had rather a lot of practice at that over the five years, four months and two weeks since he'd inconveniently fallen in love with John.

“That's because you only seem to go out with women whose brains have stagnated,” he said.

John turned to glance at him and for a moment he looked caught. No doubt he hadn't expected Sherlock to overhear him.

“Is excitement something you really want?” asked John's aunt. “Carl was never exciting.”

That was because Carl was an accountant with a fetish for being tied up and fellated. There was nothing interesting or unique about that, and Sherlock was opening his mouth to point that out when John glared at him hard enough for Sherlock to remember his decision. No causing a scene, not even if it felt like his brain was atrophying.

“Hi, John, are you having a good time?” Oh god, it was the tallest bridesmaid, and she was smiling at John with her breasts on display. Was she enough of a lesbian to avoid being swayed by John's charms? Sherlock hoped so. The last thing he wanted was to have to suffer through another of John's ill-advised relationships.

John smiled at her and Sherlock was relieved to see it was fake. “Oh yes,” he said, completely unconvincingly. Good – if John was having a bad time, hopefully they'd never have to go to another wedding. “Are you?”

“Yes!” she said. “Weddings are so much fun!” Wrong, thought Sherlock, wondering how he could get her to go away. “It could be having more fun, though,” she said, and to Sherlock's surprise, looked at him. “Do you think your handsome friend would dance with me?”

Sherlock felt his eyes widen, although hopefully the rest of his sheer terror at the idea wasn't visible. “I don't dance,” he said firmly.

“Oh, it's okay,” she said merrily, “I'm not trying to step on John's toes, I just want a partner whose head I can't see over the top of. I promise not to do anything inappropriate that would get you into trouble.” She winked. “Well, not unless you want to be in trouble.”

Oh, this just got worse and worse. She'd accused John of being in a relationship with Sherlock, which meant Sherlock had about three seconds before...

John let out a groan, and dropped his forehead to the table. “We're not together,” he said.

Sherlock had managed to prepare himself enough not to flinch, but the cold stab of pain still bit into his chest. Why did it have to hurt every single time John said that? Surely after the first time it should lose its power? He knew John hated how often they got mistaken for a couple, he knew that just the idea made him annoyed, as if it was somehow insulting for people to think he might be with Sherlock. There was no need for Sherlock to get hurt every single time he vocalised that.

Luckily, there was someone near-by to take it out on. “I don't dance. Particularly not with women who are two Southern Comforts away from falling out of their dresses.”

The woman flushed, tugged uselessly at the plunging neckline of her dress and stalked off. Thank god, that meant Sherlock could do the same. He turned on his heel and left John at the table with his aunt. Maybe there would be a corpse hanging from a tree in garden.


End file.
